


and here we are, at the end of things

by alwaysyourqueen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, I'm very emo about Molly's death which I only just watched today, so I needed to write a one-shot about what happened to them as they died, they/them Mollymauk, this is very self-indulgent and full of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysyourqueen/pseuds/alwaysyourqueen
Summary: Mollymauk dies.





	and here we are, at the end of things

Lorenzo was far stronger than any of them expected. Keg’s information was wrong, what she said about the group had been wrong. Mollymauk looked about to the other members of the Mighty Nein and Keg, themself having just been partially frozen by a cone of cold, and they made a split second decision.

Through their mind ran a million thoughts. That maybe Jester and Fjord and Yasha were here. That they could save them, they could be a fucking hero for the first time in their fucking life. Make things more than a little better where they went. Save some people instead of just stumble into saving them. They loved the idea of it, the romance and the daring.

But before doing anything, they had to check that the others were alright.

Nott looked nearly frozen solid, but appearances lied when it came to the little goblin. She was resilient, good at surviving. Their eyes traced to Beau, who has a thin sheet of ice over her, but she was already shaking it off with the blood trailing out of her nose as she jumps over to beat the shit out of Lorenzo. They felt reasonably sure she’d be fine. They glance back to Caleb and see he was only glazed by the outskirts of the cone.

Split-second decision-making. Now or never. Beau is going to Lorenzo, so they’re going for Lorenzo. They make a running jump over the cart, sliding to the other side and stepping in front of him.

One, two, three. They cut at him with their swords, watching his blood start to spill. The bastard doesn’t seem to be fazed by it, though, and that just frustrates and angers Molly. In fact, to add insult to injury, he’s fucking _smirking_ , the absolute ass. So confident he’s going to win he’s barely even trying to dodge.

They’re exceptionally wounded and hurting right now. It hurts, they hurt, but sabotaging this motherfucker is worth it. They hold their hand out, making eye contact. The vein on their neck pops, and then their legs get weak. They’re bleeding too much, too hard, and they see double as their head hits the ground. Breathing is getting harder. Their chest can barely rise and fall, and it feels as though it’s filling with something.

Barely holding onto consciousness, they’re suddenly hit with the understanding that they’re going to die.

It’s not a good feeling, and neither is the feeling of cold steel entering their chest. Blood pours from them and the air escapes their lungs as they’re punctured. They can almost count down the seconds, feeling leaving their toes, their calves, their knees, their fingertips, and so on. Their body is lightly shivering and it makes the whole experience worse.

Once again, a million thoughts run through their mind. That they will never compliment Yasha’s tits again and make her smile. They will never get to see Calianna and how her own adventures went. They will never get to see things with Keg through and keep their promise. They will never tell Fjord how nice he looks in a new outfit. They will never spar with Beau again. They will never hug Nott and tell her how fantastic a friend she is. They will never help Caleb calm down from an anxiety attack and help him feel.

Blood is leaking from their lips. They can taste their own blood, iron-laden and salty and disgusting. The glaive leaves their chest and the open wound is so fucking cold in the morning air. It stings, and they’re glad they can’t see it. Then it reenters, rending flesh and crushing at least one of their ribs in the process, grinding with blinding pain against every part of their torso.

They will never tell Jester they love her. Not in the way they want to.

The world around them starts to run dark, their body has lost most feeling. They can’t speak, and their ears only barely catch Lorenzo’s words, “An example it is.”

Mollymauk has worked hard for their life to be _theirs_ , not belonging to some cult, and certainly not belonging to this asshole who just trashed them because they were impulsive. No, it isn’t Lorenzo’s place to get the last laugh. Their lips are stained red with their own blood, an ironic lipstick.

_Go to hell, Lorenzo,_ they think. _Go directly to hell._

They spit in his face, blood firing into his face and wiping over his expression. The glaive is twisted and they hear the crunching of their bones. It’s sickening, and it echoes in their ears. The sound keeps on echoing in their mind, as they feel distanced from their body. They don’t feel anything anymore, and they realize they can’t see or hear anything. The world is distant as a dream.

* * *

It feels as though it’s been silent for a hundred years, but also as though it’s been only a few seconds.

“Mollymauk.” A voice calls out, and they open their eyes. They’re lying on the ground, so they stand up. The source of the voice is a half-elven man with black hair, woven throughout with black feathers, and wearing a cloak of raven-feathers on top of adventurer’s black armor. On either hip there’s a sheathed knife, but they feel…safe.

“Who’re you?” they ask, propping a hand on either hip. “And where am I?”

“Right where you last remember. Come with me,” he reaches out, a hand for Molly to take. “I believe the Raven Queen would like to meet you.”

Molly accepts the hand of the handsome, mysterious stranger and steps towards him, seeing the world around. It’s the site of their fight, but there’s almost no remnants of it except bloodstained dirt and signs of a scuffle. “So what’s your name, handsome?”

“Vax’ildan.”

“And how’d you get this gig?”

Vax laughs. “It’s a long story.”


End file.
